


Fonder

by thebackhand



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Australian Open 2020, Body Worship, Comfort Sex, Fluff and Smut, I Love You, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, basically sascha getting a clue and worshipping domi like he deserves, post-AO final hurt/comfort, safe sex, sascha is an idiot but domi loves him anyway, sascha is clueless, thierev - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebackhand/pseuds/thebackhand
Summary: Sascha tried so hard to stop caring. It hurt too much, knowing that Domi’s soft words and lingering hugs were just him being him. They didn’t meant that Domi wanted Sascha the way Sascha wanted Domi.So he put distance between them, tried to think about tennis and nothing else, until the Australian Open draw forced the issue and the final broke his heart.
Relationships: Dominic Thiem/Alexander Zverev
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Fonder

**Author's Note:**

> Well I was working on the Dominos fic and then suddenly Thierev porn happened instead so here you go. Thierev porn. Thanks to rach_mz on twitter for the prompt.

Sascha tried so hard to stop caring. It hurt too much, knowing that Domi’s soft words and lingering hugs were just him being _him_. They didn’t mean that Domi wanted Sascha the way Sascha wanted Domi.

He put distance between them and swallowed the guilt when he saw confusion and hurt in Dominic’s face. Domi was his friend, and that was all, and Sascha couldn’t handle it. It would be easier, Sascha thought, if they weren't so close.

So he did it. But it wasn’t easier. It never got easier.

It’s not easier now, watching from his hotel room as Dominic fights the battle of his life, taking on Rafael Nadal at his own game of brutal spin and scorching pace and punishing rallies. It’s not easier, watching Domi’s nerve abandon him when he serves for the match.

“Come on,” Sascha whispers, in spite of himself. He should want Rafa to take it to a fifth. He should want a spent opponent in his first major semifinal.

But he doesn’t.

Impossible speed, a blistering backhand pass no one else on the planet could make. It’s match point again, and he’s done it.

Sascha watches Domi in the moment of victory, and he knows he can’t pretend anymore.

None of that matters in the match. Sascha wants to _win_, wants it more than he could ever put into words, and he fights his heart out. But when he serves one of the best sets of his life and Domi _still wins it_, he knows it’s over.

At the net, Sascha hugs Domi close and cradles the back of his head. He’s shaking. Sascha wants to hold him forever.

“You deserve this,” he murmurs. “You’ve worked so hard.” _I love you._

Dominic looks up, and Sascha just barely stops himself from kissing this beautiful boy for the whole world to see. When he has to let go, Sascha feels ice cold and empty.

The final hurts. The trophy ceremony hurts. Dominic’s whole body hurts. He’s put it through so much in the past two weeks, and yet here he is again, holding a fucking plate while another ageless legend lifts the cup.

It’s so hard not to be bitter. His throat aches with the effort of holding back tears, but he manages a shaky, rushed speech. He survives Novak’s. He endures until finally, mercifully, he no longer has to.

The locker room is silent. For a few minutes, he just huddles against the wall of the shower, letting the water drown out his thoughts and resting his head on his knees. He needs to go to press. He can’t go to press.

He goes to press. He barely hears anything that comes out of his own mouth. It takes a lifetime. He wants to go to bed. He wants to go home.

When Dominic drags himself back to his hotel room, he finds someone sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hey,” Sascha says, and Domi all but collapses into his arms as he finally breaks. Sascha just holds him, aching with him, letting him cry and shake with how much this hurts. “You’ll be okay. I promise, Domi. I’m so sorry.”

This time, when Domi looks up, Sascha kisses him. Tender, gentle, cradling his face and brushing away tears with his thumb. Domi makes a startled little noise against his lips, but then he melts into it and locks his hands behind Sascha’s neck.

“I love you,” Sascha finally says, years late. He prays not too late. “That’s why I tried to push you away, I didn’t think… god, I’m so stupid.”

Dominic answers by twisting his fingers into Sascha’s hair and crushing their lips together again. He pulls Sascha down on top of him, needing the solid, comforting weight.

“I love you. I think I always have,” Domi breathes. “Sascha, please….”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Sascha kisses Domi breathless, swallowing his quiet moans and tasting salt from the tears that streaked his face. His hands rest on Domi’s hips, long fingers digging into the curves of his ass through his underwear and pulling him against Sascha’s thigh pressed between his legs.

“Sascha, god, _please_…”

“What is it?”

“Please, Sascha, want you.”

Sascha sucks in a breath through his teeth, grip tight on Domi’s hips.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m here, you’ve got me,” he murmurs. “Do you have…?”

Domi reaches for the drawer in the bedside table and impatiently yanks it open.

“Turn over for me?” Sascha asks once he has what he needs.

Domi does, and Sascha is so turned on he’s pretty sure he’s going to fucking die. He makes short work of his own underwear but takes his time dragging Dominic’s down his legs, feeling him shudder. When he’s done with that, he runs his hands up the backs of Domi’s thighs and nudges them apart.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Sascha mutters.

He indulges for a moment, sitting between Dominic’s thighs and kneading the perfect swell of his ass until he whines, then spreading him and reveling in the desperate little noise Domi makes into the pillow.

“What do you want, beautiful?” Sascha asks, leaning forward over Domi’s back to whisper in his ear.

“F-fuck, Sascha.”

“Tell me, Domi. What do you want?”

“Want you in me, Sascha, please.”

Sascha groans deep in his chest and turns Domi’s face to kiss him hard before drawing back. He watches a shiver run up Domi’s spine at the _click_ of the bottle cap, and there’s nothing Sascha wants more than to make him feel every bit as amazing as Sascha knows he is.

Sascha spreads him with one hand and drags two slick fingers down from his tailbone, loving the needy moans he gets in response. And then he _pushes_, and Domi muffles a louder noise in the pillow as Sascha’s finger slips into him. He’s so hot inside, so tight, and Sascha has to remind himself to go slow as he starts to move.

“Oh _fuck_,” Sascha breathes. “You feel so good. Can you take another one?”

Domi shoves his hips back as well as he can from this position, and Sascha takes it as a yes. He works a second digit in alongside the first and feels Domi twitch and shudder around them. Sascha curses under his breath and fucks him with two fingers, loving every sound he makes. Domi mumbles something unintelligible, and Sascha crooks his fingers to make him cry out.

“What was that?”

“More,” Dominic whispers. “Please, Sascha, fuck me.”

“I will, _liebling_. Wait for me, just a little longer. Gonna make it good for you.”

Sascha is harder than he’s ever been in his life, but he won’t rush this. He won’t hurt him. So he withdraws his fingers to add more lube, then presses three back inside and kisses the small of Domi’s back as he arches with pleasure. Sascha stretches him, dipping his tongue into the spaces between his fingers to hear Domi sob with how much he wants it, and then pulling away.

“_Fuck_, Sascha–”

“Easy, shhh, easy,” Sascha murmurs. “Let me see you, gorgeous.”

Domi can barely think at this point, but he lets Sascha take control and put him on his back again, legs wrapped around narrow hips as Sascha rolls a condom over his dick.

“Please,” Domi whispers.

Sascha leans down to kiss him, swallows the tiny overwhelmed moans and adds his own as his cock slides into impossibly tight heat. Domi is so beautiful, blushing all the way down his heaving chest, fists clenched in the sheets, his cock hard where it’s trapped between them.

“Sascha,” he pants, head thrown back while Sascha nuzzles his throat. He sounds absolutely wrecked, and Sascha loves it, loves him. “Sascha, _move_.”

Sascha doesn’t need more invitation than that. He starts slow, trying to be gentle and give Domi time to adjust, but he’s having none of that, arching into Sascha’s touch and clenching tight around his dick. So Sascha gives in, fucks into him hard and fast until Domi is crying out and Sascha knows neither of them will last much longer. He reaches between them to wrap his hand around Domi’s cock. It only takes a few messy strokes before he comes, gasping against Sascha’s lips, and Sascha follows moments later.

No part of Sascha wants to get up, but he does it anyway, throwing out the condom and getting a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean up. Domi squirms, and Sascha laughs softly and kisses him.

When Sascha burrows back under the duvet, Domi holds him, and he’s home.

“I love you,” Sascha whispers.

He rests his forehead against Domi’s, arms draped around his waist. Domi kisses him without urgency now, and Sascha lets him lead.

“I love you, too,” Dominic murmurs. “No more secrets, okay?”

“No more secrets.”

**Author's Note:**

> f i l t h
> 
> (thanks for reading, please tell me if you enjoyed the filth)


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